


Come Clean

by orphan_account



Category: Metallica
Genre: Angst, Awkward Tension, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: James checks up on Lars. Set after the Big Four show in Indio, Hotel Esmeralda, Apr 2011.
Relationships: James Hetfield/Lars Ulrich
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Come Clean

_Where are you?_  
  
Five minutes later, he gets a reply. _Hotel bar._  
  
 _Which one?_  
  
The response this time is quicker. _Ours._  
  
James doesn’t text him back. He hops off the bed and snatches his clothes off the floor, slipping them on as he heads to the door.  
  
At three in the morning, every sound is magnified. The hotel door locking shut. His feet shuffling on the carpet. The ding of the elevator and the doors sliding open. At this hour, in this place, people should be sleeping. Especially after a long day at the venue, getting the parking pass, dealing with family, interviews, rehearsals and the show itself. Anyone would’ve been exhausted. But not Lars. As expected, Lars went off post-show, threw his promises and disappeared into a crowd. James was okay with it though. Lars would be back soon. There was no need to worry.  
  
He catches his reflection in the gold as the elevator moves down the floors, gravity pushing down on his knees. Tousled hair, circles around his eyes. Black jacket, red pajama pants. No socks, unlaced shoes.  
  
No need to worry.  
  
 _Right._  
  
In the lobby there’s light signs of life. The security guard standing near the entrance. The front desk receptionist typing away at the keyboard. Two straggly teenagers in Metallica shirts stumbling into a hallway, too tired or too wasted to notice whom they just crossed paths with. It’s a nice sort of quiet emptiness he likes. Less people snooping around into their business, as private as they can get in a public setting. Easier to handle Lars like this.  
  
He makes his way to the bar. The windows are big enough to look in, and when he does, he spots Lars at the end of the room, sitting on a stool, hunched over with his elbows on the white counter. Alone.  
  
The sight of him like this hurts. All day Lars has been acting weird. One minute he’s smiling and laughing like normal, and the next minute, he’s staring off into space, his energy zapped, his reactions half-hearted at best. Multiple times James tried to prod him into talking, going as far as publicly offering him a cup of tea during the M&G, only for Lars to wave him off afterwards, in the privacy of their tent, with a kiss and an “I’m okay.” But he wasn’t okay. It was obvious. If he was okay, they’d be in their room already.  
  
The doors of course are locked. James knocks on the door a few times, hoping for someone inside to show up—or maybe get Lars’s attention. Neither happens. He tries again, and this time, he sees the silhouette of a burly man walk over.  
  
He steps out of the shadows, stops in front of the door. Fumbles with the keys and when the door cracks open a little ways, the guy says, “We’re closed.”  
  
“I know, but that’s my partner there.”  
  
“Partner?”  
  
“Yeah. The one at the bar. Look, I promise I’ll be quick. I’m just here to get him to our room.”  
  
The guy gives him a look over for a moment, and then steps back. “Alright.” He opens the door wider for him to enter.  
  
“Thanks man. Appreciate it.”  
  
Lars doesn’t move as he approaches the bar. Knowing him, he’s probably drunk out of his mind or close to it. Four hours is more than enough time for Lars to party with whomever.  
  
He takes the empty stool next to him, leaning on the counter as well. A full red martini with a cherry on the rim sits between Lars’s forearms. But when he catches Lars’s profile, James frowns. There’s no tell-tale glossiness in Lars’s eyes, no dopey smile or any trace of drunkenness for that matter.  
  
Lars is sober.  
  
 _Shit._ James weaves his fingers together, palm on palm. _Dammit Lars._ “So.” He leans into Lars’s side. “You gonna drink that anytime soon?”  
  
There are multiple ways he expects Lars to react. A bitchy comment— _why, you want it?_ —or a bitchy move—like sliding the glass his way—or a roll of his eyes or a “fuck off” or a “fuck you.” Or maybe, just maybe, a smile.  
  
Lars just shrugs.  
  
And then nothing. Lars says nothing.  
  
James scoots closer. Their sides touch, from shoulder to wrist. “Lars.”  
  
Nothing again.  
  
He unclasps his hands. Covers the top of Lars’s hand with his palm.  
  
“Lars?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
Lars isn’t looking at him still. “Hi.”  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“What’s—” He clears his throat. “What’re you drinking?”  
  
“Cherry martini.”  
  
“It looks good.” He leaned in further, his nose close enough to brush Lars’s cheek. “Too bad I don’t drink anymore, huh?”  
  
Lars shrugs. His hand slowly slips away from underneath James’s.  
  
James catches it in time. “What’s wrong?” When Lars says nothing, he squeezes his fingers. “Lars.”  
  
“What?”  
  
He sounds irritated. _Good._ “What’s going on?”  
  
“You tell me. You’re the one who came here.”  
  
“I wanted to know where you were.”  
  
“And I told you.” He finally turns to James, looking him in the eye. “So now what? You gonna drag me outta here?”  
  
Lars looks awful. “No—”  
  
“Good.” He yanks his fingers out of James’s hand. “Go back to bed. I can take care of myself.”  
  
This mood. James knows this mood. It’s the Lars no one can talk to rationally. The Lars that attacks and hurts intentionally in order to protect himself. Asshole Lars. Business Lars. Soon he’ll hear more sneers aiming for the wounds, because Lars isn’t himself right now. Eight, nine, ten years ago, James would’ve started a fight that escalated, exploded and then eroded the relationship even further. Thankfully he grew up. He wasn’t that man anymore. And he knows Lars better now. Knows how to handle him when he’s like this.  
  
James slowly stands up. His hand gravitates to the small of Lars’s back.  
  
“Okay.” He kisses Lars’s cheek. “I can wait.” His fingers skip down Lars’s shirt, his lips lingering over warm skin. “I’ll see you later.”  
  
When he turns away, he sees Lars’s hand twitch on the counter.  
  
At the doors, the guard gives him a puzzled look. James nods to him as he walks out. “He’s almost done. Thanks.”  
  
It’s quiet and dead in the lobby. The security guard slumps against the wall near the entrance, his eyelids drooping. The front desk receptionist leans on an elbow, chin in hand, while the other moves the mouse around, clicking here and there. She blinks slow like the security guard, like the janitor passing him by, a hand over his mouth to stifle the yawn. There’s a lull, a drowsiness settling in the emptiness that beckons him back to bed. The empty bed. But tomorrow is another day. Lars will open up when he’s ready. James finally learned patience a long time ago.  
  
He makes it to the elevator, rocking on his heels as he waits. The ding of the elevator sounds too loud, and he catches his reflection before the doors slide open. Tousled hair, circles around his eyes. Hands in his jacket, red pajama pants. Hurt, sleepy, but okay.  
  
 _It’ll be okay._  
  
James enters and leans against the side, head on the wall. Stares at the buttons as the doors slide shut—  
  
A hand bursts through. The doors open again.  
  
He lifts his head up. His eyes widen as he turns and faces Lars standing in the elevator, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed.  
  
The doors close.  
  
Gravity pushes down on his knees, anchors him in place. He hears the _wrr_ of the elevator moving up, the beep signaling each floor passed.  
  
Lars stands still.  
  
His head feels heavy like his chest.  
  
“Lars?”  
  
Slowly, Lars glances him over, and then shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”  
  
James smiles. He unpockets his hands and opens his arms.  
  
Lars hesitates at first. Looks uncharacteristically shy, a little guilty, and then takes a few tentative steps forward. His arms shake as they wind around his waist. And James waits to feel Lars’s cheek rest on his chest before he returns the embrace and squeezes Lars to him, his chin falling comfortably on top of Lars’s head.  
  
He guides Lars to bed. Leads him out of the elevators right to their room, an arm around his waist. They say nothing as James unzips his jacket while Lars dresses for bed. They stay quiet when James pushes the Del Taco wrappers and the sheets to the side, climbing in first. They only share smiles when James, on his side, opens an arm up again, and Lars tucks himself in, head and hands on James’s bare chest. They have one lingering kiss when James hugs Lars to him again, and they fall asleep together like this, the sheets around their hips, all the way to morning.  
  
And come morning, Lars finally tells James what was wrong.


End file.
